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New to this board and I love it. More activity than LVA and not snarky like TA. I thought you may enjoy reading our first trip report ever... Hope you like it... No hookers and blow, but we have lots of booze and a leprechaun.

Beth

This was our tenth trip to Vegas so we figured it was about time to give a trip report a try. I will confess upfront that my memory of the events is clouded by the sweet fog of alcohols embrace. Never the less, here is what I can piece together:

Day One â€“ Let the VP and Drinking Begin

Up Friday, Feb. 5th at 4:30, SWA to Chicago then to Vegas. Wife went on line and got us great boarding passes so we sat up front in the first row on both legs of the trip. Had a window seat, plenty of leg room, and nobody getting on looked like a terrorist. Comforted by the extra room and a newly found faith in the science of aviation mechanics, I slept well on both flights. Memory still well intact.

Get to Vegas at noon Vegas time, bags all there, hit the rental car place. I have no idea how Dollar runs their business, but we waited in the express line downstairs for 20 minutes before the car retriever gentlemen tells us we can just go take any car in the last row. Apparently if you are renting a mid level car they will go and retrieve it for you; if not, you get it yourself. Iâ€™m ok with this, but you couldnâ€™t have told me that 20 minutes earlier? Another 20 minutes in the checkout line and we are on our way. We will need to re evaluate our car rental option going forward.

In Vegas the wife drives; I donâ€™t know why, she just does. She takes a super secret back way to Caesars and saves us some time dealing with LVB traffic. I know itâ€™s nice to see the strip when you first get there, but it was still daytime and after traveling all day I needed a beer. As Ben Franklin once said (not too recently, I assume), â€œBeer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happyâ€. I was certainly ready to test Benâ€™s theory.

Go to check in but nothing ready. I forget itâ€™s only 1:00 here so this makes sense. The nice older woman behind the desk tells us that we have been given a junior suite in the Palace Tower and, although she could get us into another room, this room would be nicer. The problem was that the room reserved for us still had the previous nights inhabitants intact; she played around in the system a while and got us a similar room (she was intent on us having this room) and then called housekeeping to have them clean it. My wife and I were both impressed by her effort â€“we didnâ€™t know we had a junior suite, or even knew what a junior suite was (itâ€™s a normal room with two crappers, more later) and she could have easily stuck us somewhere else, but she went out of her way so we thanked her and wifey gave her a $20. She smiled and seemed genuinely thankful. Now I know we didnâ€™t have to tip her, we had already gotten what we wanted, but Iâ€™m a big proponent of rewarding good service, and it made for a good start to the trip.

A little back ground here; the wife and I were in Vegas last June, sitting at the Caesarâ€™s sportsbook bar, talking to Anthony, the greatest bartender in all of Vegas, when the topic of the Super Bowl came up. Anthony tells us itâ€™s as absolute anarchy during the game, with a huge crowd and an excess of drunken, gambling fun. The wife gets up, saves her seat and comes back about ten minutes later, telling me she just booked us for Super Bowl Weekend! Sometimes you just know you married the right personâ€¦

So back to the present: leave bags with bellhop and hit the seahorse bar for some VP. With no food in our stomachs or brains in our heads (Vegas does this to us) we spend the next two hours gambling and drinking. God I love Las Vegas. Weâ€™re both down a little after a couple hours and we decide to hit the Burger Brasserie at Paris. Unfortunately we leave the coupon in the carryon bag which is still with the bellhop, but Iâ€™m too hungry so we suck it up. Just an aside here, the girls working here wear rather revealing tops, which is not something I usually have a problem with. But what I noticed this time is that some of the girls seemed very young and it disturbed me in a strange way. This wave of moral enlightenment evaporated, however, when our waitress (of appropriate age and VERY well endowed) came to take our order. Thank goodness; Vegas is not the place for reflective thinking. As for the food, I had the American burger and Beth had a huge Chicken salad. Both were very good and we will undoubtedly be back

Back to Caesars to check in; get our keys and call to have the bags brought up. The room is a junior suite, which means it is a normal room (maybe slightly bigger) but it has two bathrooms. The bathrooms are split by a shower that can be accessed from either bathroom, which was unique. The real nice feature of the bathroom was the Jacuzzi tub, which the wifey loves. Nice room, a view of the pools (would be really nice in a few months when pools open) and the bags come. Now Iâ€™ve had a few drinks and Iâ€™ve been awake a while, so when the bellhop comes up and introduces himself I notice he has a very heavy accent, clearly Eastern European. But what I say to the guys is, â€œOh, you must be from Irelandâ€. Even as I say it I know he is definitely not from Ireland and he looks at me as if maybe I am slightly retarded (which, of course, with a few beers in me, I am), and the smiles and says no, heâ€™s Albanian. So after a not so brief discussion about common Albanian acquaintances we may share, I tip him and thank him for being a good sport.

Down to the floor for some drinking and gambling. We hit the sportsbook bar and say hi to Anthony, the greatest bartender in Vegas. If youâ€™ve ever been fortunate enough to spend some time at the Caesars sportsbook then you have undoubtedly met Anthony. Heâ€™s a big Italian Jersey guy with a goatee and he was one of the first people we met when we first started coming to Caesars. You know what most impresses me about this guy? He remembers names. I know him only from the bar, we do not contact each other socially or stay in touch in any capacity, and when I sit down he shakes my hand and says â€œKev, how are you?â€. I havenâ€™t seen the guy since last June and he remembered my name. Impressive. I tell him heâ€™s like Rain Man but with a slightly better personality and we sit to begin the night.

Now here is where the next four days get foggy, with the introduction alcohol. I know we sat at the bar for hours and drank many, many, many beers and I remember talking to a lot of nice people, but all detail goes out the window with the inability to retain short term memory. I do remember telling the wife weâ€™d been awake for almost 24 hours, I remember that she was doing ok with her bankroll, and I remember having a general sense that I was down on the day but could not summon the simple motor skills or basic mental computations to calculate to what degree this may be true. Time for bed, weâ€™ll assess the damage in the morning.

Day Two Feb. 6th â€“ Midgets with shots

Iâ€™m up early. 7:30 early. WTF? Iâ€™m on vacation and I get up at 7:30? I feel surprisingly good for a guy that drank a gallon of beer the night before but I canâ€™t sleep. I always have trouble sleeping in Vegas, no matter what time it is. Itâ€™s like there is this incredible energy that wonâ€™t let me sleep. I know plenty of people who go to Vegas and refuse to sleep, but I WANT to sleep. Useless, canâ€™t fight it. I go downstairs, get a banana and a diet Pepsi at the store, and walk the strip. The great part about getting up early is watching the 20 year old guys coming in for the night. Hilarious. They are absolutely hammered in the way you can only be hammered when you have both drunk a lot of alcohol and done so for many, many hours. I donâ€™t walk too far, itâ€™s pretty cold out, plus itâ€™s a little rainy. This is my wife and Iâ€™s 10th trip to Vegas and this is the first time Iâ€™ve ever brought long pants. We usually come June or July, sometimes in the early fall, so weâ€™ve never experienced Vegas when you didnâ€™t think your hair was melting. I prefer the heat, to be honest.

Back to Caesars, play a little, go up $350 after putting in a hundred playing a combo of dollar bonus and DDB but give it all back over the course of an hour or so. Go up to get Bethegan (Beth is her first name and Egan is her last, I call her Bethegan, all one word, for short. I didnâ€™t tell you I was a genius). We assess the damage from the night before: we are up a couple hundred dollars, mostly on Betheganâ€™s side. Not too bad.

Anyway, down a little at Gustavâ€™s, we head over to the Flamingo and get our tickets to the Big Game. I had gotten an invite to the RIO big game party but the offer was contingent on staying there. The problem, of course, is that we were already going to be at Caesars and didnâ€™t want to change. So we called Caesars a few weeks ago to see if they could get us into their big game party.

They put us in touch with a Casino host, Glenn Berk, to see what he could do. Through a series of emails he told us we could not get into the Caesars party but he could get us into the Flamingo party. Short story long, we got tix to the big game party and wouldnâ€™t have to stumble far. (Aside: Is this what casino hosts do? Should I have found him and tipped him? Iâ€™ve never needed a host before and didnâ€™t know the protocol. Bethegan did send him a nice thank you when we got back). Anyway, got the tix and decide to walk up to Wynn.

Along the way we come to Oâ€™sheaâ€™s (or, as I fondly call it, Oâ€™shitholes). I like this place for short periods of time but wouldnâ€™t consider it a complete trip without at least going in for a visit. Itâ€™s probably around 3:00 and the place is packed, absolutely packed, with mostly younger people drinking cheap beer and playing low denomination games. But Iâ€™m thirsty so we belly up to the bar, the wife puts $20 in the bartop VP and we order some drafts. The bartender comes back with the beer and asks for $8. $8 for two shitty warm draft beers while sheâ€™s playing VP at the bar? Really? She explains sheâ€™s playing and that the other beer is for me so they should be free. He concedes her beer but not mine and I am once again reminded why I like this place in small doses. But just when I begin to think we should just grab our beers and go, I see something which causes me to re evaluate my decision.

Just to the left of me appears a midget (sorry if this is an offensive term but if I told you he was a little person you may have thought I meant he was Asian. And this little redheaded gentleman was certainly not Asian). So anyway, just to the left of me appears a midget dressed like a leprechaun. He jumps up on the bar, grabs a bottle of some unnaturally green fluid, and begins walking along the bar. â€œWant a shot?â€ he says as he looks down at me. I kid you not. Without hesitation I say â€œAbsolutely I do.â€ The little guy proceeds to hold the bottle about 3 feet above my head and pours what seems like a gallon of some alcoholic beverage down my throat and all over my face. When heâ€™s done violating me I ask him what it was and he tells me it was rum. Yeah, maybe it was rum yesterday before he filtered it through his own kidneys but today it tasted like Hi C and sweat. Reminder to self: get a hepatitis shot at next doctorâ€™s visit. Anyway, I gave him $4 for his effort and the entertainment value and we head up to Wynn. Wonder if they have midgets giving shots at Wynn?

We arrive at Wynn. No midgets, giving shots or otherwise. We go in along with the well heeled and pretend that we belong. Weâ€™ve heard good things about the Clubhouse here, a nice little place that overlooks the golf course and offers light fare. The problem we run into is that between 3:30 and 5:00 they serve a very limited menu. This doesnâ€™t sit well with my wife (hot dogs and a cheese platter) so we leave and walk to another restaurant. The next place we come to (I forget the name) is not serving food at all during this time. Now the wife is really going; weâ€™ll never stay here! They donâ€™t even comp drinks at the bars! They try to tell you when you can eat!.....I just sat back and enjoyed the show.

After a long walk back we eat at the Cheesecake Factory (Bethegan gets the Chicken Marsalaâ€”she always get the Chicken Marsala---ALWAYS---and I get some Mexican dish that will wreak havoc with my digestive system for days to come. Good thing we have two crappers). After dinner itâ€™s drinking and video poker (more losses but the fog of alcohol one again prevents any serious consideration of my diminishing bankroll) and then we take a break and decide to check out Aria. We walk through Bellagio on our way and I notice that the Bellagio seems pretty calm. I mean this is the Saturday night before the Super Bowl and the place seems really quiet. We walk through the Conservatory (itâ€™s got an Asian theme due to Chinese New Year), we both think itâ€™s nice, and then we hit the tram to Aria.

We get off at Aria and walk into a shopping mall. Itâ€™s big, itâ€™s clean, and itâ€™s very modern. Still, itâ€™s a mall and I didnâ€™t come to Vegas to go shopping. We follow the mall to the bottom floor then have to walk outside before finding a door to the Casino. This is confusing but it doesnâ€™t bother me except from the standpoint that itâ€™s absolutely illogical. Shouldnâ€™t it be easy to get into a casino and difficult to get out? Anyway, we get inside and the first thing we notice is that the place is dark. And, because itâ€™s new, it is also very clean. And it is VERY busy with a lot of young, well dressed, good looking people. So this is where the Bellagio crowd has gone! We walk around for 15 minutes and see the casino but decide to leaveâ€”itâ€™s too dark for us here, we like large open spaced, well lit casinos (think Caesars and Paris) and this place is just the opposite. If youâ€™re an East Coaster like us, this place will remind you, I think, of the Borgata. Very nice, just not our style. We find our way back through the shopping mall maze and hit the sportsbook bar for a few dozen drinks and some VP with our boy Anthony. At some point I hit the wall and we call it a night; weâ€™ve got to save our strength for the game tomorrow.

Day Three Feb. 7th: Making Friends Whenever We Go

Up early again. Are you kidding me? Anyway, itâ€™s game day and I LOVE football. Combine that with free booze and gambling and I will tell you with absolute honesty I could not be happier. We start the day by taking a Jacuzzi bath. This is awesome, very relaxing. I see what the wife likes about these and agree that although the Palace tower is a little out of the way, this may be where we stay in the future. We gamble and drink a few beers on the floor before heading over to the Paris for some pre-game time at Gustavâ€™s and grab a bite to eat. But after hitting Gustavâ€™s (no luck) we notice that the Diamond lounge is open early so we forego our quest for food for some additional liquid refreshment. I order the first of many Bud Wheats (itâ€™s good but itâ€™s no Blue Moon) and the wife orders Grey Goose and Cranberry. No Grey Goose the waiter tells here but is Kettle One ok? She reluctantly says yes but I notice she isnâ€™t crazy about her drink. Still, we drink a few and then decide itâ€™s time to head over to the game!

As we are walking to the Flamingo we cross the bridge between Ballyâ€™s and Bills. At the top of the stairs is a homeless gentleman who has clearly seen better days. The wife has snuck her drink out of the Diamond lounge but has had enough; she just isnâ€™t digging the Kettle One. The homeless man has a sign asking for money but Bethegan decides she will cut out the middle man and just give him what heâ€™s really looking for. â€œHeyâ€ I hear her tell him, â€œIf you donâ€™t mind Kettle One, you can have this drink.â€ And then to further sell they guy on it (as if heâ€™s going to refuse!) she tells him â€œitâ€™s ok, I only drank out of the straw!â€ Now this guy, who looks like he would drink leaked antifreeze from a dirty puddle if it would get him buzzed, looks up and accepts the drink without question. I just sit back and watch the exchange and think to myself this is going to be a fun day.

We get to the Flamingo and make our bets. We decide that most we can bet is $400 if we are to maintain any semblance of a budget. We put $330 to win $300 on the Saints +5 and the take the money line on the Saints, $100 to win $170. We are moderately invested in the Saints and I am feeling very confident we have made prudent choices. We had up to the ballroom and let the madness begin.

We find our table and sit down. To my left is a slightly older Asian couple (Bethegan and I are both 43) and they look pretty reserved. Uh oh, I think, these people are going to hate me. Directly in front of me are two black women and a man, all dressed form head to toe in Colts gear. Great, 3 more people who will soon hate me. To the side of me is a creepy bald guy and his much younger boyfriend (Beth later told me that that was his â€œcubâ€. Interesting). They donâ€™t stay long though so now itâ€™s just us 7. We introduce ourselves and explain that as a diehard NE PATS fan not only will I be rooting against the Colts (I cannot respect the way Bill Polian lobbied the NFL to reduce the physicality of football after the PATS routinely beat up his team in the early part of the decade) but that I also will be rooting for the Saints as I truly think they will win (and have put my money on just such an event occurring). Full disclosure. The Asian couple is rooting for the Colts but do not seem terribly vested in the outcome. The three colts fans seem to be rooting, naturally, for the Colts but the two women are not really Colts fans, more fans through association to a shared geographic region. The guy they are with is more of a Colts fan, but I get the impression not really a big fan either. So at the table I am BY FAR the most impassioned fan (impassioned by my hatred for the Colts and my love of winning money), so maybe this will be fun.

On the table is a bucket of five miller lites. I ask if anyone minds if I have one and they all say go ahead. So the game starts and the Colts get off to a great start. Before the 1st Quarter is over Iâ€™ve drunk 4 of the 5 beers in the bucket (Bethegan had one) and begin to think I may have overrated the Saints. So with beer gone we get some food at the buffet. We sit down and, to my amazement, there is a fully re-stocked bucket of Miller Lites! I look in back of me to see where this may have come from and there is waiter type standing there and I asked him if he brought these. He nodded, I told him that I loved him, and I gave him five bucks. I know it was his job, but if someone brings you five free beers and you donâ€™t acknowledge this with some sort of appreciation greater than a thank you than you are not a person worthy of receiving such a gift. Even if it is Miller Lite.

The ladyâ€™s across from me had also gone to the buffet and had brought back plates of food that would feed a small town. Really, food piled on food. I looked at the woman, who was probably 5â€™ 3â€ and weighed 120 pounds, and bet her there is no way she could eat all that food. She laughed and told me not only would she eat all this food, but she would go back and get another plate with an equal amount of food and she would eat all that. And, in the course of the next hour, she did just that! Amazing.

We were having a lot of fun at the table with the Colts â€œfansâ€ and as the game got better (2nd quarter and onside kick) and the beers continued to go down, the fun and intensity picked up. Itâ€™s a strange vibe being surrounded by a group of people with divided interests---I went to the Pats vs. Eagles Super bowl in â€™05 and it was the same thing---and it can get a little heated. Fortunately the table was more interested in having fun and the Colts girls even started rooting for the Saints! One of the woman, the one who had eaten 12 pounds of food, for whatever reason, asks us how old we thought she was and my wife and I guessed early 30â€™s. Nope, she says, 43. I tell her wow, you look a lot younger (she did, I was way too drunk to be dishonest) and she says â€œYou know why? Because BLACK DONâ€™T CRACK!â€ Absolutely hilarious, I think I may have cried.

Getting toward the end of the game now and Iâ€™ve been pretty vocal (maybe a little too vocal) and the Colts are driving for the tying score. Amazingly we are on our third bucket of beer and Iâ€™m thinking this will not be a late night. Iâ€™m feeling comfortable about the spread bet but still want the Saints to win to cover the money line bet when, out of nowhere, Tracey Porter intercepts Peyton Manning ( I do like Peyton, how can you not?) and runs it back for the game to seal the deal. The Saints are going to win the Super Bowl and Iâ€™m back in the game!

As Iâ€™m jumping around like Iâ€™ve got electrodes attached to my testicles I see a woman across the room looking at me. Sheâ€™s a tall black woman with an almost shaved head dyed blonde. I look back at her. She looks back at me. And like long separated lovers we run toward each other with only one thing in mind: a perfectly orchestrated-run across the room -chest bump. It was beautiful and, in my drunken state, an act of unmatched grace and athleticism. I patted her shave head, said goodbye to our friends at the table, and headed back to Caesars where I immediately took a well deserved all night nap.

Day Four Feb. 8th: Gloryâ€™s Last Chance

Woke up early. Of course. Felt good, amazingly. Assess money situation. Down $1300 but that includes the $430 put down on the Super Bowl. Ask the wife how sheâ€™s doing. She says donâ€™t ask. Uh Oh. My wife is very smart with money though and will never spend more than our budget, so I know sheâ€™s not going crazy but doesnâ€™t sound like sheâ€™s been winning. (Last trip we were here a half hour when the wife hit a royal for 2k at the sportsbook bar. Every trip canâ€™t be royal flush trip). We head over to the Flamingo and cash in the SB winners, get $470 plus the $430 put down on the game so now Iâ€™m down about $800 on the trip. Considering the amount of gambling Iâ€™ve been doing and the advanced state of intoxication Iâ€™ve been doing it in, I donâ€™t thinks itâ€™s so bad.

Since weâ€™re on that side of the strip we go to the Paris and hit Gustavs for a few Blue Moons. Iâ€™m having a casual conversation with some Canadians and I tell them I think the US hockey is going to win Gold. They of course tell me Iâ€™m crazy, Canada is going to win it all. We have some lighthearted conversation, they are actually from Vancouver, and this begins a conversation about one of my favorite Vancouver guys, Cam Neely, who used to play for the Bruins (and is still involved with the team today). It turns out their daughter worked with Camâ€™s sister (or something like that) and what a nice boy Cam was. While weâ€™re having this conversation, I suddenly hit a straight flush for $250. Nice. I show the wife. Sheâ€™s happy. Three spins later I hold an Ace. Three more come up for four aces, $800! I play it back down to $900, we say good bye to the nice Canadians, and we head back Caesars.

We decide that after four days maybe we should have a nice meal so we head to the Palms restaurant just outside Caesars in the Forum Shoppes. We both have the petite twin filets and I wash mine down with a Black and Tan. Absolutely delicious. We chat with the waiter, an older gentleman, very professional, and then itâ€™s back to Caesars. We play for a while at the sportsbook but we are both very tired and, after saying goodbye to Anthony, decided to hit the room, take a bath, and call it an early night.

Tuesday Feb. 9th: I want to be a PawnStar

Moving day. Slept late! About time. Played some VP in the morning but nothing serious. Time to say goodbye.

Before heading to the airport we head downtown to see the famous Gold and Silver Pawn shop (from the TV show PawnStars). This place is in a fairly rough part town; you never see the toothless crack addicts standing in front of the shop when they show it on TV. The first thing we notice is that the parking lot is full of cabs carrying tourists to the shop. And the shop itself is full of same tourists looking around but not really buying anything. My only real observation of this place is that it is really small and full of stuff I would never buy. Just me. There were about 12 people working there but none of the guys are the ones from the show. We look around for 10 minutes but decide enoughâ€™s enough and head out.

We grab lunch at the Southpoint (nice place, have never been before), fill up the tank, drop off the car, and head home.

We had a great time; Iâ€™m down $100 on the trip (the wife assures me she her losses are more significant), 4 comped nights in a beautiful room, plenty of beer and a ton of good stories.

Even though I am mentally, physically, emotionally, and nearly financially spent, itâ€™s still hard to leave. Vegas represents complete freedom and abandonment from reality and responsibility and, even if for just a short respite, it is much welcome and very much appreciated. Not for the first time, as our plane departs, I find myself already planning our next trip.

Kevin,
I'm not a huge reader of TRs, but really got a kick out of reading yours. Excellent work for a first-timer.
I gladly sit at your Super Bowl table any day.
Maybe next year, consider coming to MM.

I wish I could say that was true. Kevin did well but I spent all my budget and then decided it would be a good idea to cash a check at the casino cage for more...not a stellar plan on my part, but I did have fun!

Great report. Had all kinds of elements that make a good story. I was happy for the saints winning, even though i made a 5 dollar bet with a friend that the colts would win. I'll check the odds on the Giants when i go in july, definitely putting a little money on them.